Locking Up
by Harpy101
Summary: These are not my characters and this is not my story; it's an imaginary conclusion to the day Anna brings John Bates home from prison in Series 3. Jamesluver wrote a beautiful story called, "Beds and Books", which I highly recommend and it's a better evening for these characters, but we each have an imagination to tame, so here's my scenario as well.


Anna headed to the servants' dining hall, checklists in her head ticking off each task she'd finished for the day. She would check her log book and be done, finally. A little rush under her breastbone reminded her that her husband was in the house. She had brought him home this morning. He was here, with them. He'd be stuck in his room for a while and she would be stuck in hers, but she trusted His Lordship and knew they would soon be able to start their own life in a place of their own. She sighed, savoring the relief. He was home.

"Anna?" She startled at the voice and smiled at the head housekeeper.

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes,"

"I understand Mr. Bates is back in his old room,"

"Yes,"

"And when will you have a place?"

"His Lordship is working on getting us a cottage,"

"Yes. Well...Mr. Carson was a bit tired, he's gone to bed early tonight. And I'm not feeling that well,"

"Oh? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. But I wonder, Anna...I wonder if you would lock up,"

Anna stared at Mrs. Hughes. Surely she'd heard wrong.

"Uh-" Locking up was the highest act of trust for a servant and it was only done by the head housekeeper or the head butler.

"I feel certain you are the most trustworthy member of the staff, after Mr Carson and myself," said Mrs. Hughes, "Knowing you and your years of service as I do. I know you understand this. And as I've said, I'm not well,"

Mrs. Hughes was well enough to turn a bit red. She handed Anna the keys.

"Goodnight,"

Anna stood in the hallway, holding the keys.

"Goodnight," she said, finally. John passed Mrs. Hughes as he came down the stairs.

"Did you find the winter clothes storage to your satisfaction, Mr. Bates?"

"I did, Mrs Hughes,"

"Thank you for checking on your first day back. Sorry it kept you up late," she looked up and down the empty hallway and nodded to herself. "Then I will say goodnight," She started back up the stairs.

"Goodnight," John said, looking at Anna. Anna looked back in wonder.

"What have you got there?" John looked at her hand. Anna held up the heavy silver keys; they dangled in the soft light.

"She's not well," said Anna, then covered her mouth.

John bent in a laugh of his own, his eyes sparkling. "But-what are we supposed to do down here?"

"I don't know!" Anna chortled.

"Oh!" Daisy stumbled out from the kitchen, surprised. "I'm sorry. I'm late you see, it's-"

They stared at her.

"There's tea, if you want it, and a little cake," said Daisy, blushing, "And I'm late to bed!"

"Daisy?" said Anna.

"Goodnight!" she called in a whisper, bouncing up the stairs.

John and Anna looked into the kitchen, where a tray with a steaming fresh pot of tea and a small, decorated cake with two plates sat on the counter.

"It's a conspiracy," said John.

"It's kind," said Anna. "But a little embarrassing,"

"Should we just go loudly off to our own rooms now, then?"

"That would be rude, after all their effort,"

"Hate to be rude, first day back," said John.

Anna giggled still more. It was impossible not to. She took his hand and led him to the table in the servants' hall. Then she brought the tray in and they served each other.

"It's very nice cake," he said.

"It reminds me of a small wedding cake," said Anna, "With the rosebuds on the frosting,"

John took a forkful of the cake and held it out to her. She opened her mouth. They fed each other for a while drinking tea, but it was too much to finish. Anna wrapped the remaining piece and slipped it into the larder. When she came back John had put dishes away and was standing and waiting for her, as if they would go up the stairs together.

Anna jumped up and sat on the table. She pulled him closer by his sleeve, looking up at him. She pulled him even closer, her legs apart.

He stared at her. She stared back, her breathing on the increase.

"You are the queen of my heart," he said, "I can't take you here on the table in the bloody servant's hall,"

"The courtyard only faces the kitchen and servants' hall windows."

"_Anna!_" He said in a little exploded whisper.

"How many letters did I get telling me you would do anything I wished?"

He leveled his midnight eyes at her.

"And I wouldn't ask you for anything we didn't both want, John. Because we want the same things,"

His gaze was needle-sharp, only broken by a slow, deliberate blink.

"But," he said.

"But we're husband and wife now. We've been married for a year,"

"And together once,"

"How many of the odds have we beaten, how many of the rules have we broken already, John?"

He chewed on his lower lip, and Anna admired the contrast of his fairness (a little overly pale at the moment from his ordeal) and dark brows, the shock of black hair, his glinting black Irish eyes, the boyish cast his features had never lost. She was tired of keeping her hands off him. Anna darted forward and licked his nose. He was forced to stop thinking, and laughed.

Anna jumped off the table and headed for the back door.

"We have the rest of our lives to be proper and stay in bed," said Anna, breathlessly leading him to a spot she'd had her eye on (for how many years now?). The little stone alcove was made to be a sitting area with a shelf for potted flowers; the shelf was exactly the right height, Anna thought, but they would have to see. As she pulled him in he surprised her by hoisting her onto it. And the height, as she had thought, was perfect. It was warm for a late April night, with new leaves swaying overhead in the dim light of a half moon. Their features were softened by it, and the air was gentle on them.

She didn't need to pull him closer this time. His hands were cupping her face as he kissed her, his breath coming faster now, his body closing in, his fingers wandering under her chin, around the back of her neck. At last she could inhale that clean smell she had missed for so long and taste him, feast on him.

Her need made her completely free; she caressed him low and feverishly, drawing him to her. Anna's bloomers and stockings and slip were easily gathered aside, and it was only moments before they were perfectly joined, with a tingling rush that threatened to make Anna faint. They gazed at each other, eyes singing the same sensation to each other, all the longing they had contained now a force locking them together.

Anna thought of the blacksmith forge, of how two metals could be melded together as if they had always longed to be as one with the intense heat and action, and that was what it felt like, to be so deliciously melded to him as he moved within her; as she held him there possessively and then yielded to him, over and over, she felt that her whole body was a receptor for him, perfectly made for him as he was for her, and the first scream nearly flew out into the night air before she buried it in his shoulder. His arms held her hips now and he was lost in serving her, gone to everything else. Another wave of pleasure took her, and then another crashing over that, an elemental force was now commanding her. She opened, surrendered. Their mouths came together again, they were nearly mauling each other.

He was expanding within her, filling her to the brim, pushing her apart. Again a wave came, pushing her up and up; Anna held on for dear life and screamed raggedly into his chest, afraid for a moment that she would die of it, almost crying to have it end. Each nerve ending in her body and mind was torn in half by joy. She collapsed against him, weak and shuddering.

They heaved air in and out, him leaning on his palms on the stone on either side of her, she holding on to his arms, her forehead dropped on his chest. John tenderly restored her proper state of dress, and himself. They looked at each other.

Anna burst into tears.

John froze, his eyes darting into hers. Anna hadn't planned this. It had never entered her mind. But here it was, a tidal wave, now.

"Anna-"

"Don't-" she was gasping as tears poured, "Don't you leave me again. Never leave me again. I don't care the reason-" the sobs shot out of her and John pulled her to him, cradled her, wrapping one arm around her back.

"I won't," he whispered, "I never will-"

"Never, John, never! It was so horrible, it was so-"

"I know. I'm sorry, my love. I'm so sorry," His other hand cupped her face.

"I almost lost you!" she was gripping handfuls of the wool of his coat; if it had been a thinner fabric she would have torn it. Her teeth were gnashed together; she shook as the grief and horror of the last year ripped its way out. She felt his tears seeping down against her cheek. This wasn't fair, to punish him like this. He'd been punished plenty. Why am I doing this? She asked herself.

"You didn't lose me. I'm here. I'm never leaving you again, never. We're together now," He rocked her while she sobbed.

"And-and-and,"

"Yes, my love, yes,"

"And I'm-"

"You're angry,"

Anna pulled away and glared at him. "I'm not angry. Let me finish!"

There was a pause. John rallied to keep a straight face, but the smile was creeping on him. Anna wanted to snap about that, too, and then she felt herself relax, felt the world come back to her. It was him, it was them, together, and she had just been very, very silly.

"I'm going to need a lot of this, John. I hope you are ready because I am going to need a very great lot of this, probably for a long time,"

He gave her that long, adoring gaze, that sweet, small smile. He said, "I am at your service,"


End file.
